A/N:
Good Kermit: No, you can't make Phoenix and Charles have sex!
Bad Kermit: YOLO
Me: …
Anyway! Two updates because I cannot be trusted to update soon.
Notes:
No New Notes
Warning:
No New Warnings
Disclaimer: Stephanie Meyers and Co own the characters. I own the idea of this long ass, never ending 'story' but am not in the slightest bit getting paid for it, so you know, no suing and all that.
Then They Fell In Love
Chapter 80: Pretty Green Eyes and Unexplained Dreams
Rover wasn't in bed when Phoenix woke up. Phoenix didn't care, he didn't mind. More than anything, the man hoped that Rover was with Jamie, that he'd found Jamie's company more interesting. Phoenix wouldn't say he wanted to be rid of Rover; he just wanted the other man's attention to not be so focused on him all the time. It was tiring, having to put on an act all the time.
It was still dark out. Phoenix could see the moon through the window. It was high up in the sky, not looking ready to disappear as yet. He figured that it may be the middle of the night then. Rover must've still been up with Jamie, catching up.
Phoenix pushed himself up from the bed. He hissed when a sting shot from his left hand. He stared at the hand, at the pinked skin, touching it with thumb and forefinger, and feeling the tenderness of it. He frowned, thinking back on how something like this could've happened while he was asleep.
Play along, a voice seemed to whisper somewhere in the back of his head.
Phoenix looked up, thinking, for just a second, that he saw a shadow of someone. But he saw nothing, there was no shadow there. But he was sure he'd heard the voice, sure that he knew it, recognised it like a song heard once from a distance.
Thinking about it gave him a headache though and he didn't want to have to deal with that. So he let it go for a moment. The words didn't leave his mind though, even when he tried to think of something else. The more he touched at the tender skin on his palm, the louder the words seemed to sound.
Play along.
Phoenix dropped his hands on his lap and looked out the window. There was more, he knew there was more, but the intense headache that attacked his temple forced him to stop thinking about it.
All he could remember where the two words, and he knew that those words were important for something, something that would help him.
Play along.
The man shut his eyes and took a deep breathe. He couldn't figure it out, not like this, so the next best thing was to just let instinct guide him. His body, he hoped, would lead him: show him what he needed to do, let him know what the words meant.
And so Phoenix got out of bed and out his room. He walked down the hall, walking past the main bathroom, the guest bedroom, and Cassandra's bedroom. He was just walking past Charles's bedroom when something stopped him.
Play along, the voice pushed.
Phoenix stepped back once so he was in front of Charles's door. He looked around, at his bedroom door, at the guest bedroom door, and at Cassandra's door. Everything was quiet, nothing seemed to be moving. He raised his hand to knock on the door, but then instinct told him not to.
Instead, Phoenix pushed the door open slowly, it didn't so much as squeak. He peaked into the room, not sure what he'd see—he hadn't been into Charles's room since he woke from his accident, he didn't really know what he'd see. He was mostly relieved that it looked normal, a bit extravagant, but normal none the less.
The light of the moon came directly through the window and illuminated the room. Phoenix didn't even have to squint in order to see, it was so clear. He saw Charles, lying in the bed, asleep.
Play along.
The man breathed deeply and slipped into the room, shutting the door just as quietly as he'd opened it. He tiptoed to the bed and paused at the side of it, on the side that Charles wasn't sleeping in. he watched the older man, the slow breaths, the smooth features. Charles was a good-looking man, there was no doubting that, but the shadows of something dark never left his aura. His aura didn't leave comfort. Maybe that's why Phoenix was finding it so hard to believe the stories, believe that he loved Charles enough to want to leave Rover.
But now was not the time to think about that. Phoenix was following instinct now, following a voice he didn't know. He hoped that this wouldn't bite him in the ass later, that it wouldn't get him in trouble. He trusted his instincts, but— he had doubts, obviously.
He pushed the doubts aside and with a deep breath he grabbed the covers of the bed and held them up and then slipped into the bed. Charles jumped slightly, opening his eyes and staring. His body relaxed when he saw who it was, but then he frowned.
"Phi?" the man asked gently, voice husky with sleep.
"It's not about sex," Phoenix said quickly. He didn't want that, definitely not. He didn't even really want to be here right now. But instinct and that voice in his head, and the slightest ache of his hand, it all led him here.
"Okay," Charles said slowly. He shifted slightly on the bed and Phoenix moved closer until he was wrapped up in the man's arms.
Charles was unnaturally cold, and he too, like his brother, smelt like earth and something else. The scent wasn't bad, but it didn't smell right either. Nothing about this felt completely right.
Phoenix didn't think too hard on it though, instead concentrating on keeping his body relaxed.
"Where's Rover?" Charles asked.
"I don't know. He hasn't come to bed."
"Of course."
Phoenix thought about the tone in which those two words were spoken— of course—and frowned. He needed Charles to believe that he came here of his own volition and not out of Rover not being in bed with him. He needed to make this more believable.
There was a reason he was supposed to play along to this, a reason why instinct had led him into Charles's bed, into the man's Arms. And he needed to make sure that he did this right, that he made Charles believe that he was going this because he wanted to and not because of jealousy: because jealousy was such a petty feeling. He needed to somehow convince Charles that he believed the man, that he believed that they were in love.
"I don't want to talk about Rover," Phoenix whispered, curling himself around Charles just a little more.
"No, of course you don't."
Instinct, Phoenix needed to let instinct guide him, let his body do what needed to be done to push ideas. He had to play along and make Charles believe that he believed.
What would he need to do, what would he need to say, in order for that to work?
Dammit!
Phoenix swallowed and then shifted his head.
Warm lips met cool skin, blunt teeth scraped against flesh but didn't do more than that.
Charles held his breath, kept very still, and Phoenix pulled away and did the same, staying still.
"Phi," Charles whispered breathlessly, shifting his body, angling to towards Phoenix just a little more, holding him closer, breathing him in.
"I just want to be held," Phoenix said quickly, leaning his forehead against Charles's chest so he wouldn't have to look at the man, so the other man wouldn't see his face at that moment.
Charles said nothing, only pulling Phoenix closer to him.
Good. It was working. Good.
Phoenix hoped that he'd be able to go with this without having to involve anything else. He didn't want to have sex with Charles, he didn't even want to make out with him, be touched by him. But instinct, that voice. Everything was leading to this.
Phoenix hoped to the Spirits that things wouldn't go anything further.
]
He was lying on something cold. There was a drip-drip-drip sound coming to his left. Someone was straddling him, he could feel a face very close to his own, the other's breath warm against his mouth. He could smell the other person, a scent he was now quiet familiar with. He opened his eyes and smiled.
The green eyed Incubus was looking down at him, eyes bright and curious. He didn't look hungry, skin pale but not sickly. A pretty thing to look at. He liked this little Incubus, very much.
Quicker than the Incubus could move, he had him on his back. The Incubus looked up at him with wide eyes, blinking rapidly, probably trying to figure out how he had moved so fast.
"Hello, pretty," he said, voice quiet in the cave.
"Hello," the Incubus responded, just as quietly, the surprised that had taken him before fading quickly.
"Do you wish to feed, my pretty?" he asked.
"I'm not very hungry," the Incubus replied, something like confusion lacing the words.
"No?"
The Incubus shook his head. "No."
He moved off the Incubus, sitting up. He kept his eyes on the pretty Incubus as he too sat up. The Incubus crossed his legs, leaning back on his arms and tilting his head slightly, looking at the man before him. "What is it?" he asked the Incubus.
"Nothing," the other replied and then shook his head and said, "We've never sat and spoken before."
"No, I suppose we haven't. Our minds were filled by another need." He raised an eyebrow slightly as he watched the Incubus blush, no doubt thinking of their other need. "But you are not hungry, and neither am I."
"No, we— we're not." The Incubus looked around the damp cave and frowned, but he did not speak. He turned back the other man, his head still titled, the slightest frown furrowing his pretty brow.
"What would you like to do then, as you do not have a hunger that needs sating?"
"I— I'd just like to talk to you. Yes, that's what I'd like. You've been feeding my hunger for a while now, and I suppose I should know the man who has been so— —" he paused, searching for an appropriate word before settling with a quiet, "—generous."
"I agree. So, does my pretty have a name?"
Colour flooded the Incubus's cheeks and he smiled slightly. "Yes," the Incubus finally responded, nodding his head, biting at his lip, sharp incisors peaking, teasing.
"Am I allowed to know it?"
"And what will I get in return?" the Incubus asked, turning his head only slightly.
"A kiss."
The Incubus snorted, although his cheeks became a deeper shade of red.
"Do you not want a kiss from me?"
"I hardly know you."
The man raised an eyebrow, looking from the Incubus's body to his own. "I would think we know each other rather intimately, no?"
"That's different," the Incubus defended, although his ears coloured now too, a lovely shade of red that made the man want to lean forward and nip and tease and draw moans. That mouth did let out the most sinful of sounds.
"Is it?" the man asked, raising a brow.
"Yes!"
"Very well then. Well, I am Wahkan-Migen, the Alpha of my people. You, pretty Incubus, may call me Migen."
"And I am still not telling you my name."
"That is hardly fair. I have told you mine, should it not be common courtesy that you tell me yours?"
The Incubus shrugged. "Not likely," he said jokingly.
"Fine. What will it take for me to learn your name then, pretty?" Migen leaned forward, a smile that held devious promises pulling at his lips. "A kiss, perhaps?"
"Why do you think I want your kisses?" the Incubus asked, frowning although the mischievous sparkle glistening his eyes showed that he was only being playful, going with the flow of the mood.
"Because you have wanted many of my kisses before."
The Incubus snorted before a giggle escaped his lips. He put a hand over his mouth to stop himself from laughing. The sound of it made Migen's heart flutter in a way he couldn't describe. He enjoyed hearing the sound, a lot more than the moans apparently, and he wanted to hear more of the sound.
They sat and talked for a while longer, The Alpha feeling a weight lift each time the Incubus laughed, the melodic sound tugging at his heart and washing him with a wave of joy and calm. He enjoyed talking with the Incubus, enjoyed hearing his voice, learning his thought processes. The Incubus was clever, thoughtful, kind and gentle. The Alpha never wanted it to end.
"A kiss before you go, sweet?" The Alpha asked when the Incubus told him he needed to go.
"Maybe another time," the Incubus said, a teasing smile on his face.
"You wound me."
The Incubus snorted but leaned forward, soft hands touching muscular shoulders. The Alpha grinned, wrapping thick arms around the slim waist, enjoying how perfectly the Incubus seemed to fit in his arms. He kissed him, a long and lingering thing before slowing.
"Thank you," he whispered, biting gently at the Incubus's neck. The Incubus whined, soft and pleased, but neither pushed it further.
They sat holding each other for a long moment, the Alpha laying gentle bites at the Incubus's throat every now and again.
A rumbling sounded outside the cave, something dark and filled with dark intent. The Alpha looked to the mouth of the cave, a frown marring strong features. He looked at the Incubus who was also looking at the cave entrance.
"I really should go," the Incubus whispered.
"Yes."
And then sat a little longer. The rumbling got louder and the Alpha knew that time was up, that if he wanted to see the Incubus again then he'd need to let him go.
He kissed him one more time, soft and with promise before finally letting him go.
"Until next time, sweet."
The Incubus smiled and nodded. He let the Alpha lie back and waited until the man's body was relaxed and he was once again asleep before finally letting himself leave.
]
Zeke Lux woke in a cold sweat, eyes snapping open and heart pounding unfamiliarly in his chest. A hand flew to said chest, laying it flat, feeling his heart, pounding and pounding in a way Zeke wasn't used to. He frowned, pushing himself up slowly as he looked around his room. It was dark, even the little light that the moon would've provided being blocked away by thick, dark clouds.
Zeke slipped out of his bed quietly and walked towards the table that held thick, leather-bound tomes. He picked one of the books up and stared down at it. It was an old book, older than even himself, that had belonged to his Shifter mother. It held secrets that Zeke was sometimes reluctant to unfold because of their darker power. But as of late, Zeke had been drawn to the book, couldn't stop looking through it. The language written on it was old, a lot older than him by far, and he was having trouble figuring a lot of the words out. He knew someone who knew the language better than him though, and he knew that eventually he would need to put aside his feelings against the old Volturan (1) and ask him for help.
Caius had proven himself invaluable during the preparations of Jacob's funeral, doing everything he could to make sure that The True Alpha was given a burial that was fit for his status. Zeke was glad of the Vampire's presence, even if being so close to the man brought back memories that Zeke would've much rather not had brought back.
But it wasn't about Zeke anymore, not if there was something that he needed to know. And he knew that there was something important that he needed to find, that finding this book—hidden away among things that had long since gone out of use, deep in the bowels of the home his family had owned for centuries—was important. Dreaming of Jacob Black, only a week after The True Alpha's burial, sitting in a field of flowers, holding a book that look much too much like the one he was now looking at, was no coincident. And the fact that a Jacob was with a woman Zeke was certain was Moon, one of the Firsts, just made him even more certain that there was more to this book, that it held secrets.
Zeke opened the first page and stared down at it. The writing was faint, almost fading, but there was enough of it to show that there were sentences. Some of the words, of course, had faded completely, but Zeke was holding out hope that there were enough words to make up for that, that a word or two, missing from the text wouldn't be too much damage.
He paged through the book for a few more minutes before closing it shut. Caius would be returning from Volterra in a week. Zeke Lux would seek him out then and would consult with the man about the book, and the language. And if it so happened that Caius was unfamiliar with the language then he'd have to intrust the man to go to Aro and see if there was anyone the ancient man could help out too.
Zeke didn't fear that the Volturi would not want to help, he knew all too well from stories that Aro of Volterra was rather interested in Jacob. He would do anything to help, even if Zeke himself didn't completely understand what the feeling in the pit of his stomach was, or why he'd wake from dreams that he couldn't remember. He knew it was important though, knew that his dreams, and this old, faded book, held answers that may aid them in the fight against The Dark Ones. Zeke hoped, more than anything, that the book would reveal a weakness among The Dark Ones, one that would allow them to defeat them without a fight. But if there had to be a fight, Zeke thought as he leaned against the desk, rifling through more books and parchments of paper, then he hoped that there was a way to defeat The Dark Ones without anyone from his side getting hurt.
Zeke sighed, dropping his books and parchments. There was no use going through them, he knew that he wouldn't find anything new, that there wasn't going to be some great revelation in the middle of the night. With another, softer sigh, Zeke returned to his bed. He shoved a hand under his pillow and could feel the soft leaves he'd put under there. He'd burn them in the morning, he thought, as he lay back down on the pillow. He wasn't holding out hope that the leaves would give him anything—they hadn't done so in the past week that he'd been trying to burn them—but it was a world better than not trying at all. Zeke shut his eyes. He muttered a quiet prayer and after only a bit more of shuffling, finally went back to sleep.
…TBC…
(1) *It's Volturan right? I didn't know how else to put it. Maybe you guys know a better term. Or would it be better to just keep it as Volturi member?
(',) — Peter says hi, and he also says please forgive me for taking so long to continue this fic, but we're doing it!
